


A Reintroduction

by waywardrose



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Drug Dealing, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lies, M/M, Teacher Reader, Thirsty Flip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: Flip.Your Flip is with the cops. He has a gun and a badge and everything.That didn't make any sense.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	A Reintroduction

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Being a teacher in high school and Flip being your boyfriend, using you as a disguise,you fight with him when you find out the truth but you love each other (imagine him using those long fingers.... Omg i can't)

The doors to the gym burst open.

Cops swarm, telling everyone to stop what they're doing.

You freeze like a deer in headlights, your heart in your throat.

This is only a PTA meeting. Why would the police raid a high-school PTA meeting?

Your gaze snags on a familiar face, and the breath leaves your lungs like you'd been punched.

_Flip._ Your Flip is with the cops. He has a gun and a badge and everything.

That didn't make any sense.

He's in construction. He said he was in construction. He worked in Pueblo, helping build a new apartment complex.

Of course, you'd never seen him directly after work, but you'd never had any reason to doubt him. Flip was strong, broad-shouldered, tanned where it made sense. His hands were the right kind of rough.

Not that you'd had much experience with them. You'd only gotten to second base.

He meets your eyes, and you realize you never want to go further.

_Liar,_ you mentally scream.

The police go after the gym teacher and softball coach, Jill Haynes, and the chemistry teacher, Bruce Groene. Jill and Bruce protest, trying to back around the table in front of the rows of chairs.

They don't get far. They're surrounded. Cuffs snap around their wrists as their rights are read.

Jill screeches that they hadn't done anything wrong. Bruce tells her to shut up.

It all starts adding up. Flip had joined you in monitoring duty for the Homecoming dance. He'd used you to get into the school. You try to recall if he'd disappeared during the evening, but can't remember anything out of the ordinary.

You wonder if he'd ever gone through your school papers.

Had he ever suspected you of whatever Jill and Bruce were guilty of?

One day, he had dropped by after school—a day off, he'd said—and made out with you on top of your desk.

That had probably been a distraction tactic.

What an asshole.

You turn away from Flip and plop into your seat, knowing the procedure. You had to wait until someone took your statement or collected your contact information to schedule an interview.

The polite Detective Stallworth takes your info and tells you someone would be calling tomorrow.

"May I leave?" you ask.

"Of course. Thank you for your patience."

As he steps away, you pack your belongings. You surreptitiously glance around to see Flip nowhere in sight. Which is good. You expect him to never call you again. Or knock on the door to your empty classroom with a smile. Or take you out to a nice restaurant or a good movie or a simple walk in the park.

Well, you think, at least you hadn't fucked him. How stupid would you feel if you had.

You still feel stupid for sharing so much of yourself.

The back entrance to the gym is blocked by police and the milling crowd. Though you'd parked in the teachers' backlot, you'll have to circle the building. _Whatever._ As long as you aren't stopped, it doesn't matter.

No one prevents you from leaving the gym. No one says anything as you take a left instead of heading for the front doors.

You're almost at a side-entrance near the back of the building when you hear your name. You know that deep voice. You recoil, and your shoulders hunch. The clop of boots gets closer. You're tempted to make a break for it, but he'd probably run after you.

"Hold up," Flip calls.

You sigh and face him. You hate him. And his big, dumb boots.

As he gets closer, he says, "I know what you must be thinking."

"So you're a mind-reader now?"

"I know what it looks like."

"And what does it look like, _Officer?"_

His jaw tightens and lips thin. "It looks like I took advantage of you, but that isn't the whole story."

"I'm sure you have some elaborate excuse for me to lap up, but I don't want to hear it," you say and back away.

He follows, sunlight illuminating his dark hair. "I wasn't supposed to meet you at that car wash—"

Jill had recruited you to help raise money for the athletics program. _Shit._ You wonder what she'd been doing on the side. Was it dealing drugs? Illegal betting?

He continues, "—I..." He shakes his head. "I broke protocol."

You stop to snidely say, "But you just _had_ to meet me, huh?"

_"Yes! Okay?_ I saw you, heard how you were with the kids, and I just— _Look._ I like you."

You scoff.

"I do," he says and steps closer. "I know I fucked up. But again, it's not what it looks like."

You throw your hands out to the side. "Then what is it?"

"I work surveillance. I was listening to Haynes and Groene. You had nothing to do with it."

"That's bullshit!" You point at him. "You got me to take you to Homecoming."

You're self-aware enough to know this sounds like an argument you'd hear from one of your students. You'd hate to think they were rubbing off on you.

He says, "Where I danced with you and happened to observe the suspects."

You doubt that's the whole truth. It sounds nice, though.

"Did you write a report when you got home?" you ask. "Did you mention how I kissed you?"

"I think I kissed you first."

He visibly swallows as if remembering. You catch him glance at your lips. For all you know, it's a ruse.

You huff, "Whatever. I'm going home."

"Wait. For just a minute."

"Shit, Philip, what do you want from me? I don't even know if that's your real name. You lied to me. This whole time. You used me. And you haven't even apologized."

"That's what I'm getting to—if you'd let me."

"Go for it."

"I apologize, alright? I'm sorry. My name's really Philip Zimmerman. My nickname's really Flip. I'm really a detective with the CSPD, and I like you a lot. I didn't use you. Though yeah, it was a conflict of interest when I began dating you."

"You feel like a stranger."

"No, I don't." He reaches out to cup the side of your face. "Strangers don't do this."

His hand is warm and huge. His calluses graze your cheekbone. You wish you could say you hate it, but you don't.

"I'm sorry for not telling you my real job. I was going to come clean on our next date."

"You think there'll be another date?"

"You tell me."

You want to refuse him. However, if he's the same person you've been dating all along, you know he'd respect your wishes. He didn't condescend to play games.

"I don't know," you answer honestly, though you place your hand on top of his on your cheek.

"Would a reintroduction change your mind?"

A little grin plays across his face. The heaviness in your chest starts to dissipate.

"It wouldn't hurt."

With all seriousness, he says, "Hi, I'm Detective Philip Zimmerman of the CSPD, and I'd like to take you out this Saturday."

"I had a bad run-in with a cop lately."

"Give me their badge number, and I'll deal with them."

His thumb strokes your cheek.

"That's not necessary, Detective, but you do have a lot to make up for."

"I know, but I can't do that if you don't come out with me on Saturday."

"Good point."

"I'm full of them."

You laugh. "You'll have to present all these points on Saturday, then."

"I plan to," he says and inches closer.

You smell the tobacco from the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. His dark eyes stare into yours. His pink lips are plush, looking so kissable when framed by his goatee.

He puts his other hand on your neck to gently tilt your head. He leans in, a question in his eyes. You realize if you didn't want him, you would've left already. While you could be angry with him, and you are, you could kiss him and work things out.

You move forward to catch his lips with yours. He makes a surprised sound which morphs into pleased. His lips are dry and a little chapped, yet perfect. You wouldn't trade his kisses for anything.

You drop your bag to put an arm around his waist. He slants his head to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding along your bottom lip. His goatee tickles. You smile and peek at him to see him do the same.

He warmly whispers, "What?"

"I like your goatee."

"Yeah? Like to feel it somewhere else?"

You'd like to feel more than his facial hair abrading your skin. Like his strong hands, his long fingers. You bet they'd feel so good inside you, crooking to find every sweet spot. Or his lips, kissing you everywhere, his tongue tasting you.

"Maybe after your presentation on Saturday."

"Deal," he says and kisses you again.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com)


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